


Soaring (On Your Updraft)

by Arteluna



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, Soulmate AU, Starts when they're teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6502471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arteluna/pseuds/Arteluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was the falcon following her, or was she being paranoid?</p>
<p>Everyone want to have a soulmate, but not everyone gets one. When a strange bird starts following Sara, she wonders if it could be trying to lead her to her future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really like soulmate AU's, so I finally got around to writing one myself! This is my first fanfic, so tell me what you think. Title might change later on, and the same goes for the summary.
> 
> Also, I haven't actually had a chance to watch every episode of Arrow, so if something isn't canon-compliant, keep that in mind. Also, this is an AU, so I am going to change some things.

Was the falcon following her, or was she being paranoid?

Sara had always been a bit skeptical about the whole concept of soulmates. It seemed like a bad idea to let fate dictate whom you had to spend the rest of your life with, especially since being soulmates wasn’t a guarantee of being happy together. She saw proof of this in her father and mother – they’d been led to each other when they were in their late teens, and they still fought all the time. She personally believed that the only reason they were still together was because it was customary. Still, she couldn’t help but keep an eye out for the animal that would supposedly lead her to her destiny. Could the strange falcon be it?

Her older sister, Laurel, still hadn’t been approached by her animal, so Sara was hesitant about going to her with questions. Instead, she brought it up with her friend while they were eating lunch in the courtyard.

“Why don’t you just go up to it?” Helena was always the pragmatist. “If it’s yours, it might come closer.”

“But what if it’s not?” Even if she’d never seen a bird like that before (Did falcons even live in Starling?) there was always the possibility it was just a normal bird. Or it could be someone else’s soul animal. That would be worse – she didn’t want to be one of the kids everyone knew was waiting with bated breath for their animal to appear, the ones who thought that any stray animal could be their future personified. Even now, she could see that multiple kids across the courtyard had their eyes on the bird.

It certainly stood out. It was perched in a tree just past the fence, as if it was hanging back on purpose, but its dark feathers were a sharp contrast against the bright leaves. Some kids even pointed at it. Sara knew that if she walked forward, she’d immediately make herself the center of attention.

“So what? At least you’ll know.” Helena examined her fingernails, clearly not very concerned. Sara frowned at her. “Don’t be such a coward. It’ll be fine.”

At that, Sara stood, stomping away. Helena was practically her only friend, but she could be so irritating sometimes. Then again, so could Sara, and after the social disaster that was her “stealing” of someone else’s boyfriend, hardly anyone else would have anything to do with her. It wasn’t like approaching the bird would make her more of an outcast. With that in mind, she strolled over to the fence, trying her best to seem casual.

“Here, birdy birdy,” she muttered, immediately feeling stupid. The falcon seemed to agree. It looked at her, then very pointedly averted its gaze. “Are you my soul animal or not? Because, like, everyone’s watching, so a sign would be nice. Like, any sign at all.” The bird looked back, its amber eyes fixing on Sara’s own bright blue. It tilted its head to the side, but remained on the branch. “Alright then.” It seemed like she’d been wrong. Sara could hear people snickering, but kept her head up as she turned away. 

“Well, It was worth a shot,” Helena called out, to the amusement of the crowd. Before Sara could work up a suitable response, there was a flurry of wings, precluding a shift in the expressions of those all around her. One girl’s mouth dropped open, and there was a clang of metal rattling against metal. Slowly, Sara turned around.


	2. Chapter 2

The yellow bird was back again. 

It swooped overhead, back and forth across the plateau. Every so often, it would disappear into the distance, or behind a rise, but it would soon return. Nyssa had the strangest feeling it was watching her, though it would never get quite close enough for her to be sure. It seemed almost hesitant; the nearest it had come was perching on one of the bannisters of Nanda Parbat. Its color made it stand out against the desert sand. She’d never seen a bird quite like that before. 

It was distracting, was what it was. With her mind on the bird, she didn’t realize that her father had spoken, and he was forced to repeat the instruction – an order about a sparring practice that was to occur later in the day. She nodded quickly. “Yes, Father.” 

“Distracted?” There was thinly veiled irritation in his voice, so Nyssa hurried to explain herself. In her fourteen years, she’d already learned that things ended badly when Ra’s became displeased.

“Yes, father. I’m sorry. I was thinking about the bird.” As soon as she spoke, she realized how stupid the excuse must sound. “It doesn’t matter. I apologize.”

To her surprise, her father froze, the motion barely perceptible. For some reason, the animal concerned him – she could see it in his eyes. Nyssa fought the urge to take a step back. Her father’s men surrounded them, and she could see that her comment had drawn their attention as well. It would not do to appear weak. “Bird? What bird?”

Nyssa hesitated. She regretted having every spoken. “Just a little yellow thing. It keeps coming back, but it’s surely nothing. It’s gone now.” That was a lie. She could see where it was nestled into a cliff-side. 

Ra’s turned away, robbing Nyssa of the opportunity to read his expression. “If it returns, I want you to shoot it.” His voice was uncaring, but there was a strange meaning hidden behind the order. She could hear it there, pressing on his syllables, and straining at the masks that were the faces of the men all around her. One looked almost sick. He certainly wouldn’t last long.

Her first instinct was to express her confusion, but she bit it back. She’d pushed her luck enough for one day. “As you wish, Father.” 

He departed, and she turned away, walking to the banister. The little bird was still quite far away, not easily visible to the men still behind Nyssa, watching to see the orders carried out. They seemed strangely invested in this, she thought. There was definitely some greater meaning here she was missing. Still, she carefully strung her bow, waiting for when the bird ventured a bit closer. She hoped it had the good sense to stay away. 

It did not. It took flight, wings beating against the dusty sky. Immediately, its position was visible to all, motion as easily caught by highly trained eyes. Nyssa had no choice but to knock an arrow against the string. She fumbled, something she hadn’t done since she was a small child, and the nock slipped right past the string. In an instant, it was corrected. Her eyes remained on the yellow speck in the sky, flitting in and out of firing distance as if it was daring her. She raised her weapon, body automatically adjusting into the perfect form. She drew back, bringing the fletching to rest against the corner of her mouth. Her bow had never felt so heavy in her grasp, and she felt what was almost annoyance at it before scolding herself at the childish sentiment. She’d killed people before, many times. Why was a little bird any different? “Leave me,” she commanded, the words echoing in the small space. This felt like something she should be alone for. 

After a moment of uncertainty, both men departed. Her father was definitely going to be displeased - he had clearly left the men behind to make sure the job was completed. Nyssa couldn’t bring herself to care, either for her own skin or that of any others. Her arm had begun to tremble from the strain of holding the tight string in the correct position. She corrected her aim. The arrow, once released, never missed its target.

The string vibrated in its wake, and she watched both it and the bird disappear from sight like falling stars.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Homework has gotten crazy. Title has also been changed, from "Flying" to "Soaring (On Your Updraft)". Thanks to everyone who commented/reviewed!

The falcon was clinging to the top of the fence, talons wrapped around chain link. It cocked its head to the side once more, bright eyes wide. Now that it was closer, Sara could make out just how dark its feathers were, and the white marking its chest. There was a small scroll tied to its leg, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. Hesitantly, she raised her arm, offering it a closer perch. It fluffed its feathers a bit, and adjusted its grip. The fence trembled. “Come on,” Sara whispered, holding her arm slightly higher. “Come here, you stubborn little thing.” The bird chirped, sounding almost irritated. It clicked its beak, drawing attention to how painful a nip from it would be. Still, Sara didn’t back away. 

Suddenly, the bird leapt free of the chain link. It fluttered a bit in the air before handing heavily on Sara’s outstretched arm, talons pressing against her arm even through her jacket. It swayed as Sara adjusted to the sudden weight, and twittered again as if scolding. “Shhhh.” Sara murmured. The falcon was even more elegant close up, feathers neat and shining. It cocked its head to the side, black eyes gleaming. “You really like making an entrance, don’t you?”  
The falcon chirped, a surprisingly cute sound for such a scary-looking-bird, and Sara laughed as she began to edge over a nearby picnic table. The kids sitting there quickly scattered, and there were surprisingly few comments. Even Helena kept her distance. “You’re going to need to get down now,” Sara whispered. Keeping her arm in a horizontal position was getting pretty tiring, and the bird bobbed up and down. It made another small noise, clearly complaining, and for a second, its claws tightened around Sara’s arm.

“Oh, come on. You’re pretty heavy, you know.” She hoped it could understand. Soul animals were supposed to be highly intelligent, but she still felt kind of dumb talking to a bird. She held her arm over the table. “Would you please just jump down?” The bird looked at her and, after another stubborn moment, it complied, talons clattering against the painted wood as it landed. 

Sara sighed. “Thank you.” She slid onto the bench, her face suddenly level with the falcon. The scroll tied to its leg came into focus, yellowed paper tied carefully with red thread. 

“Are you going to read it?” Helena said, her voice echoing from over Sara’s shoulder. The falcon clicked its beak again, and Helena took a step backwards. “I don’t think your bird likes me very much.”

“It’s just a little jumpy.” Sara muttered, eyes still fixed on the paper. The bird twittered again. “Okay, I’m sorry. You’re cautious. Is that better?” It chirped, and ruffled its feathers. 

“Doesn’t look like it’s from around here,” Helena said cautiously, still not coming closer. “And I bet it can fly a pretty long distance. Your soulmate might be in a different country.” 

Sara had just realized the same thing, and in a way, it was comforting. She could search out her soulmate on her own terms – and there was no way she’d end up bonded to one of the infuriating boys in her class. On the other hand, that would draw out the uncertainly even longer. Still, there was nothing to loose.  
Sara slowly reached out for the paper, and the bird edged away. “Are you serious? Let me see.” It drew further back. “What’s wrong with you?” It leaned forward, the inner edges of its wings rising as it and shifted from foot to foot, talons clicking. Sara would be frightened, but it didn’t seem hostile. More… hesitant. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” She extended her hand again, and this time, the falcon didn’t try to retreat. Instead, it moved slightly closer, and, in one quick motion, caught the edge of Sara’s sleeve in its beak. Helena gasped, moving even further back. The falcon’s black eyes met Sara’s, appearing like pools of tar.

“Do you not want me to find my soulmate?” Sara whispered. “Is there something wrong?” It released her hem, but didn’t move back. It cocked its head to the side, almost asking a question in return. “You can trust me, you know. I want to find him, I do.” She wasn’t necessarily sure that was true, but it seemed like the right thing to say. “Whatever you’re warning me about, I can handle it. I promise.” 

Sara reached out again, and the bird stood completely still. Slowly, she untied the string, careful not to damage the fragile-looking paper. When it eventually pulled free, Sara moved back again, the scroll cupped in her hands. She hesitated, and the falcon nibbled at her fingers. 

“What are you waiting for?” Helena whispered, and Sara became acutely aware of the fact that she had an audience.

“Nothing.” She tried to unroll it with confidence, but her hands trembled. When it was pulled taught between her hands, she could hardly hear Helena’s intake of breath over the frantic beating of her heart.

The first line of script wasn’t even in English, and Sara thought she recognized the intricate lettering as Arabic. That was all she absorbed, however, as her eyes were drawn to the second row of writing. That was English, or at least English letters, though the name was incredibly unfamiliar. 

Nyssa al Ghul. Sara couldn’t help but repeat the name over and over in her head, though she didn’t want to say it out loud. The handwriting it was printed in was careful and clear, the lines thin and dark. Did it belong to her soulmate? She felt the urge to trace the lines with a finger. 

“Nyssa.” Sara jumped as Helena, as always, broke the silence. “That doesn’t sound like a boy’s name.”


	4. Chapter 4

Nyssa never missed. 

It was simply lucky that in this case, her target had been the open air a few inches to the left of the bird, hopefully just close enough to get a message across – you’re not safe here – and to make the act convincing to those who still watched. The ploy had worked, and the bird had dropped out of view, likely too spooked to return. 

She felt strangely disappointed. It was ridiculous to miss a bird, and it was even sillier to miss a bird she’d never even been within a hundred feet of, but there was still a strange aching in her chest. _I should have just shot the stupid thing_ , Nyssa thought as she put away her bow in the corner of her room, _though I suspect that would have made me feel worse_. 

With the amount of fuss everyone else had made about the little animal, she supposed it was normal to feel a little let down by it just vanishing. It had been an interesting change from a surprisingly monotonous lifestyle, a small spot of bright color on the edge of a barren landscape. 

Nyssa slowly walked over to her balcony, giving her eyes a moment to adjust away from the flickering candlelight. It was a clear night, and she could make out the stars. She wasn’t particularly attached to the twinkling lights, but at least they were relatively constant. No matter where in the world she was sent, there were always stars. The constellations changed, of course, but that was hardly important. When she had been very young, she’d made up stories about the collections of lights, but she could barely remember any of them now. They weren’t important, but part of her now wished she’d made a greater effort to record them.

Below, she could make out the stuttering light of torches, likely carried by her father’s guards. She’d never understood the idea of carrying a light with you when on patrol – all it did was limit your field of vision, and make you an easier target – but her father seemed to disagree. Still, she did know that there were guards hidden in the surrounding area as well, shrouded in shadow (she’d been caught by them a fair amount of times when she was still young enough to consider sneaking out). She supposed that was the point. With your gaze focused on the torches, you never noticed those who went without. 

There was motion to her left, a flutter of wings dulled by the dark, and Nyssa spun to face it. The little bird was perched on the wall encircling the balcony, feathers fluffed against the cold. Its dark eyes were fixed on Nyssa, and her first instinct was to take a step back, especially when she noticed the scrap of paper tied to its leg. 

This whole situation was so unreal. _Why would a bird be so intent on delivering a message to me? Especially such a strange one_ , Nyssa thought. It clearly wasn’t a carrier pigeon, or even a messenger hawk. And why wasn’t it seeking out her father? Nyssa, despite her fancy title, was still seen by most as a child, and had very little real authority, at least not without her father behind her. Still, it didn’t seem like much of a threat, just a mystery, and after a moment, Nyssa remembered what the real danger was. If anyone saw the bird… 

She reached out for it, and it jumped backwards, away from her outstretched fingers. She’d never notice before, but birds were in constant motion. “Don’t you want to deliver your message?” Nyssa whispered, her voice suddenly hushed by urgency. “Please, just, come here –“ It tilted its head to the side, almost appraisingly, then, in an instant and a tensing of legs, drew slightly closer. Nyssa extended her arm again, but this time kept her hand a few inches from the yellow bird. After a tense second of waiting, there was a flutter of feathers and the sensation of claws gripping her skin. The bird hardly weighed a thing – after a decade and a half of holding a bow taught, she could barely perceive the slight pressure on her hand.

Slowly, she moved back into her room, taking care not to startle the bird into fleeing. For the moment, it seemed perfectly content to sway on her hand, watching her with black, shining eyes. “You’re not scared of me at all, are you? Even after I almost shot you.” The little bird chirped, and Nyssa fought back a smile. “I’m glad you came back.” She surprised herself with the admission. Sharing more positive emotions, or even expressing them at all, had never been one of her strengths. To be fair, it wasn’t a skill she’d been encouraged to cultivate. “Are you going to let me see your message?”

The yellow bird made another noise, and Nyssa decided to interpret it as a yes. With her free hand, she lightly tugged on the white string, and was surprised when it came free quite easily. The little scroll fell into her hand, and she nudged the bird off of her hand and onto her bedframe that way she could open the note with both hands. It protested – that sound required no inference – but Nyssa was too curious about the paper to pay it much attention.

Once she had unrolled it, however, the strange eagerness was replaced by confusion. Two words did not constitute a message – just a name. And why would anyone bother sending her the name of someone she’d never met before? 

“Sara Lance.”


End file.
